Postcards
The pageantry of bliss -
I watched them in full light
that burns out the soft graze
Why, on a sunny August,
with passersby gilded by ebullience
do I have to be a wretched man?
The mirrors bend backwards
to my toppling complacence
and slivers uncouthly when
I unfurl my crooked teeth
in what should look like a smile
I counted the black birds
that perched on electric lines,
I counted the phone's dial tones,
but I cannot count the thorns
tossed upon my open sleep
that sent my dreams in an asylum
The night will always arrive
exacerbating a painful affliction
where I am enthused to write
and these words I tinker
will try to tickle the tassels
on the fringes of your blanket
And I didn't need to count
the diminutive tragedies
and benumbing dejections
for they are always abundant
guised as cold orbs assailed
into the inverted stygian ocean
When the clock falls into sequence
and quintessential pain engulfs
the root of my prime disease: love,
my words beget the stark naked frailty
and hoists an oppressive defense
in a hapless, puny onslaught
Where are those postcards
that lured me with sunshine?
Those kind words that were
as generic as a wanton smile?
Those postcards enveloped
in the treacherous skin of hope?
poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Postcards From The Wasteland
BOUNCE Bonus song (Japanese)
Tonight the moon's as pretty as a brand new rose
And nosey stars, they seem to know where everybody goes
As poets reach for words with broken motel pens
Here's something to hold on to 'til I come home again
Out here the days they don't have names they've got numbers
And the nights just seem to fade into each other
Jilted lovers are like fireflies, each one with a spark
Trying to fill the hole where once there was a heart
I'm sending postcards from the wasteland
Following my headlights down the highway in the dark
I'm sending postcards from the wasteland
Postmarked from the state of my heart
In care of wherever you are
Postcards from the wasteland
Now before the summer sun gets chased away
And all of our tomorrows turn to yesterdays
I'm going to build you that castle
I'm going to write you that song
I've got to find the words to say
Until I hold you in my arms
I'm sending postcard from the wasteland
Following my headlights down the highway in the dark
I'm sending postcards from the wasteland
Postmarked from the state of my heart
In care of wherever you are
Postcards from the wasteland
Tonight I'll meet you in my dreams
See you soon
Love,
Me
I'm sending postcards from the wasteland
Following my headlights down the highway in the dark
I'm sending postcards from the wasteland
I'm sending postcards from the wasteland
I'm sending postcards from the wasteland
Following my headlights down the highway in the dark
I'm sending postcards from the wasteland
Postmarked from the state of my heart
I'm sending postcards from the wasteland
Following my headlights down this highway in the dark
I'm sending postcards from the wasteland
Postmarked from the state of my heart
In care of wherever you are
song performed by by Bon Jovi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Three Postcards
Oh, three postcards to my heart;
The three postcards from Morocco with love,
They are as a souvenir to my heart.
How great you are with love and care,
How great you are with words and views,
How great you are to my heart;
Yes, the postcrads of Safi to my humble heart.
Love will surely find a way,
Like the dream of dreams on important issues;
You are the one for me when it comes for love.
My heart is the soul of business when,
You are open to me;
My heart is the room of love when,
You are ready to share;
How sweet is your love?
Oh, sweet postcards to my heart;
The three postcards of love from the North,
True love transcends all borders.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Yesterday's Smiles
If we could count yesterday's smiles
and double that number today.
We might feel the kind of happiness
that would take our frowns away. A smile can say so many things
and still not speak a word.
So many times a smile has said,
the kindest words I've heard. Your smile can ask, "how are you?"
I hope you're feeling well.
And when a smile is returned to you
You'll know the message it tells. We know a smile says nothing wrong
like the words in our prayers we pray.
Let's try to smile more often
to brighten someone's day. A smile doesn't show any envy
it only shows we care.
To give one never cost a dime,
God gave them to us to share.
poem by Ruth Stuart
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A Poet To Be
A poet I claim not to be,
For words are never there.
In all the years I've tried to write,
I have no words to share.
I sit and think but nothing comes,
No inspiration here.
I want to write of anything,
But still no words I fear.
I read the works of other poets,
I wish I were like them.
How do they write such beautiful lines,
A poet, I'm not him.
I try to write from the heart,
From deep within my soul.
I try to write of the love I have,
But cannot reach my goal.
But why I ask, why can't I write,
Of love so pure and true.
Why can't I write about her eyes,
A mix of green and blue.
I want to write about her smile,
It brightens up my day.
I try to think of anything,
But words I cannot say.
I wish I knew how to write,
A poem with such bliss.
I wish I knew how to describe,
Her soft but tender kiss.
I cannot even begin to write,
How she holds me tight.
How her arms around me,
Makes everything just right.
A poet does not have to think,
The words flow right out.
When I sit and try to write,
I want to scream and shout.
I mean come on, how hard can it be,
To write about her hair.
Such long beautiful natural blonde,
That flows in the air.
I try to write about her laugh,
The words will not fly.
Time passes and finally,
I say it's soft and high.
It's been an hour and a half,
I'm here on verse twelve.
I had to go to Rhymezone,
To find out the rhyme is shelve.
A poet does not do that,
Go online to find a rhyme.
A poet has it in his head,
And can write at any time.
But a poet I am not,
For I cannot write of love.
How the girl I am with,
Is an angel from up above.
How I love her with all my heart,
And want to spend my life with her.
How her love for me is more,
Than I can ever be for sure.
As I draw near the end,
My mind is not so numb.
I realize I've just written of love,
A poet I have become.
poem by Adam McKim
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To be pitiably old
Besides parents and grand parents,
Aunts and uncles were counted on.
Besides father and mother,
Nephews and nieces were counted on.
Besides brothers and sisters,
Sons and daughters were counted on.
Then their children were contemplated on.
I count days, with no more to be counted on.
20.10.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Words
Words on this paper
Words in my head
Words while I'm texting
Computing
Unsaid
Words between people
Words on the phone
Words upon words
Even when I'm alone
Words from the Bible
I question
Don't mesh
Words from pornography
Making them flesh
Words with flat letters
Written in black
Good words and bad words
You cannot take back
Words that are shallow
Words that are deep
When they're too many
They put me to sleep
Words that I'm writing
And rhyming you read
Whatever I'm saying
There's prolly no need
Words from the alphabet
Words that can't be
When you are blind
And it's Braile that you see
Words that are worthless
And said on the fly
My words or your words
Are most likely lies
Words in a sentence
Wise words or fair
The only words earnest
Are those said in prayer
Written by Sara Fielder © 2011
poem by Sara Fielder
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A Poem Speaking 4 U
how is poem..?
not Thing is thear...
ALL ARE WORDS
SOME WORDS NICE
SOME WORDS SPICE
SOME WORDS NOTHING
SOME WORDS LOVELY
SOME WORDS BEAUTYFUL
SOME WORDS HUNGRY
SOME WORDS ANGRY
THATS ALL...
WRITE IT
LOVE IT...
THIS IS FOR OTHERS
U ARE READ YOURS...
THATS ALL
TAKE A LITTLE SMILE
LIFE IS THIS..
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Exhuming The Bones Of Naivety
I was another orphan
from the gravid collections
cloyed by jealousy,
drifting past the irony
I watched it dance -
the usurped splendor
once basked in the innocent eyes -
with the waning dust motes
with a vehemence of a sleeper
Felled from the platoon,
unrifled and guised with a
perfunctory smile,
hiding amidst the enviable insularity
of the rain's iron curtains
complacence is my confidant
my citadel against
my own destructive measures
And when the crooked hands
of the clock unsheathed
its vengeful fusillade
not a shadow flailed,
not a soul squandered,
everything was as still
as an obsidian memory
as if the wanton silence speaks
a mirror of harangue
against the enemy inside
the eyes of naivety.
poem by Norman Santos
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I Counted On Love
Morse, Walsh)
-----------------
I'm hangin on, 'cause I hate letting go (I hate letting go)
I'm not that strong, but you already know how I hate letting go
We believed that dreams came true, now that picture's torn in two
I counted on love but love will never cry for me
I counted on love but love will never lie for me
I counted on love but lover say goodbye for me
I counted on love
Some great defender, is that what you need? To heal not to bleed
Some great pretender shouting
"SET YOURSELF FREE- SET YOURSELF FREE"
Why do memories have to be like a lock without a key?
I counted on love but love will never cry for me
I counted on love but love will never lie for me
I counted on love but lover say goodbye for me
I was flying oh so high
Now I'm trying not to cry
I was trying, but I'm dying, 'cause I hate letting go
I counted on love but love will never cry for me
I counted on love but love will never lie for me
I counted on love but lover say goodbye for me
I counted on love
I counted on you
song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Call On Me
The feelin is clear
Clear as a blue sky on a sunny day
Everything was you
cause no one made me feel
The way I felt with you
Call on me cause
I love you
You know I do
You love me too
Then came a change
When I said I would soon be leavin you
Nothin else to do
Please remember Ill never lose the thought of you
Call on me cause
I love you
You know I do
You love me too
Youve got to find
Someone else to somehow take my place
Share his love with you
But if you need a friend
You can always count on me
Count on me cause
I love you
You know I do
You love me too
You can count on me oh
You can count on me
You can count on me baby
You can count on me
You can count on me oh
You can count on me
You can count on me baby
You can count on me
You can count on me oh
You can count on me
You can count on me baby
You can count on me
You can count on me oh
You can count on me
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sugar Curls
You can count the stars
and the count will be incomplete.
You can count times
I've looked for you
in dreams
I've dreamed.
You can count the hours
I've marked,
my stomach knotting
etching time across my heart
since I've seen your face.
I know how many steps
to your house;
your phone number backwards;
the colors in your eyes,
how many sighs
I make
looking at your photograph.
If there in a number to infinity
then you can see me circling back;
starting again infinitely.
Lower me down to deepest depths
count my fathoms there
plumb these and more
for our ocean is endlessly
deep.
How many grains in beachy sand?
I know having sifted each.
What is the size of this love for you?
There is no count of instances,
for that is a number which cannot be reached.
Simply put
you count with me;
together we
count twice infinitely.
Oh so sweet
are the sugar
grains
whose white dotted
fractals
swirl
in our hearts;
rotating
Love Curls
circling
endlessly.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Postcard
Send me a postcard
so all can see what you say.
Words out in the open,
not hidden away.
For whatever you tell me
will probably be
things that don't matter
only to me.
'Cause postcards are greetings
that anyone can read.
They never are personal.
They don't fill my need.
But a postcard's better
than nothing from you,
even if your words
others can view.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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When the ink of my soul runs dry
Sometimes, when the ink of my soul runs dry,
when my heart is too hurt to sing, the words too painful to be said,
then the silence is my voice, the blue sky my hope,
the ocean is my tear,
the stars are my dreams,
the flowers my smile, and the birds my freedom.
Your Peace overflows.
The beauty of each day overwhelms me.
poem by Marius Alexandru (2023)
Submitted by anonym
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Faint Of Heart
I wish you could have read
The Letters that I didn’t write
Would’ve liked for you to have heard
Words I didn’t say
I wish you could have felt the touch
Of hands that didn’t reach out at night
Would’ve liked to know
What you didn’t feel…
When you didn’t hear the words…
Words I didn’t say…words I couldn’t write
poem by David Whalen
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Sad Words
Some forty odd years ago
when I first started to write
the words that came out
were always sad words.
Repressed feelings of my own,
who can ever tell?
Then the words became lighter and happier
when love came to me.
Now they have gone full circle
and sadness is all I seem to write.
The lighter and happier words have vanished
like a candle light extinguished in the night.
The sad words have travelled full circle
coming back to me
filling my pen with sorrow and tears
the way it used to be.
Love is still with me,
so I question what I write,
wondering if that candle
will ever be lit again at night
to guide back the happier words,
banishing the sad words forever out of sight.
28 March 2010
poem by David Harris
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Sun
The sun is a woman made of clay.
She stands above the mountain- tops
Against a red velvet sky at dawn.
Her skin tone, earthy-hued, radiates from afar.
Though chipped around the edges, she is still my friend.
Nothing or no one can be flawless;
Her smile is crooked, but sweet,
And her eyes, when wide open, are always filled with awe, wonder and surprise,
A woman molded from clay
Has skin tone- mahogany hued.
Chipped around the edges,
She is rugged, forever fighting through dense fog at dawn.
When days and nights are dreary,
I cast my eyes about the sky
I search for the sun, that awesome woman, made of clay
Her warm earth tones are calming
And the joy that she exudes is always comforting.
It is when the full moon rises that I lose my grounds,
And hear spoken words that others do not hear.
Sometimes- I see horrific sights that others do not see.
While the white of the moon is stark,
The sun’s earth tones are not garish.
I wander outward, daily,
And search for this clay-toned woman
Who is called “The Sun”
She smiles her crooked smile at me,
In thanks that I am her worshipper.
Forever, my friend, the sun will not be as fickle as the moon,
Waxing and waning past midnight
Bringing out in me thoughts that are not truly real.
In the darkness, I run from all.
I live in fear.
I live in fear,
But when the sun looks down upon me with her loving eyes,
And when that same crooked smile appears upon her face-
I am so enticed with her pulchritude-
Those disturbing thoughts are just whisked away
Within the early April morning’s breeze.
poem by Claudia Krizay
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The Statue
I take you looking at the statue
the smile is yours and the stone is you
the stone is simple and the smile is playful
the smile is stolen and the stone is fallen
I ask you to stand and smile like that until
thinking you stone, time has forgotten you.
They say but really I forget
however picturesque
however figurative
whether so often and so quizzical
whoever it was crying in another voice ...
Let us sit like tailors. At least 1 am sure of this:
man or woman or beast I recall no face.
The night is kind so please to bend your arm
hide your head in the hollow of your arm
nobody will take you unawares, nobody
and nobody will take you unprepared
for time it is now to step out of time
and sleep will come as easy as kiss my hand
and you will find sleep kind.
Sleep has few terrors if we sleep like you
it is a cooling shower that falls on you
the water running through mirrors noiselessly
dreaming in doing things you dreamt to do.
But now all brawn Colossus straightens up
and stammers in the language of birds
and the sea goes mincing back into the sunset
strange to have lived so long upon this planet
daylight and moonlight, all the fun in the world.
poem by Kenneth Allott
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Words Sometimes Take On A Own Meaning
Words sometimes take on a own meaning
and sometimes they are sharp and painful
as if there is much more to words
as if a kind of secret knowledge hides in them
that are sometimes something moving.
Words sometimes take on a own meaning
but somehow words can at times miss things
and are sometimes dependent on feelings
as if there is much more to words
when through it all love brings a kind of bonding
and so you and I are attractive to each other.
Words sometimes take on a own meaning
and daily a bond develops between us,
while you become more considerable to me,
as if there is much more to words
you constantly live in my thoughts,
while love becomes real through words.
Words sometimes take on a own meaning
as if there is much more to words…
poem by Gert Strydom
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Pnoy
let me be counted
i am in
i am the odd man
in that system
count me in
open the door
i belong here
in the scale
that swings for her
i am the panther
count me in
i serve the good
you are the one
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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As I Wait For For You
and then our minds met at a point
of convergence
i waited for you in a room without a number
a place without a name
a space where only us know what & how to fill
i am naked
you want the whole truth and so i am naked
in this room without a number, a place without a name
a space, where only our self-manifested emptiness know how & what to fill
when you arrive do not call my name
be so soft and gentle with your feet
do not even say your name as
i have also left my name somewhere else
and it is only i who knows it
i lose my identity
that is how i want to spend my short moment with you
i am naked
i only have my face, my skin and my flesh my bones my whole body
not my soul
do not knock
just push the door
it is left open throughout the nights of my waiting
i have intended it that way
so when you arrive and i am still asleep with my dreams and desires
of you
do not disturb the silence and sweetness of my sleep
just whisper your desire for love so sweet to my ears
touch the surfaces of my skin and caress with your soft fingers the smooth lines of my face
place your head just beside my tight chest
for there you shall hear the sounds of all my desires
and then my love we begin the sharing of our hidden truths
we shall dance in our nakedness
we shall make love real
we shall open the shutters of this closed window
we let the slits of light from outside the night get inside us and put some
warmth on the empty pores of our skins
we bring light to the darkness of our lives
we put fire to those eyes that refuse to close and die
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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